In theory, it's always so easy. Seems easy. You know all the whys and hows and whats in your life. You can see the repeating patterns and motives and cycles — you can see it all clear as day. You know where you went wrong before, you know why, and so you know what to do next. So much self-awareness, so much pattern recognition, so much inner work and healing. You've done it all. And you're doing great, better than ever, you're happier than ever.
Your new life is different — so new and almost suspiciously good — and you're somewhere between leaving your old life behind and becoming this new version of yourself. And so, you think you healed. You're content, and suddenly you know: it's coming. The test. Because you learned the hard way that the universe will always test you, because this is the whole point of life, this is the question that will be asked over and over again, because this is what you came here for: did you learn the lesson?
And so the test comes, and you think you're prepared. And you know the answers, you know what to say and do, and everything inside you is screaming the right answer… and you decide to do the opposite. Still. You go against your better judgment and don't listen to your intuition, your heart — you don't listen to yourself, and you say yes when you should have said no. And then, silence. And then, regret. And then comes the bargaining. With yourself, with your higher self. Because why do you do something you know you shouldn't? Why do you do something you've done many times before, and learned the hard way wasn't the right thing to do? And still.
And if you ask me, I can't answer why. I can't even blame anyone else — and maybe that was the last lesson I had to learn, because I used to blame everyone else for the mistakes I made, but now I know, I can't. I just can't. And I'm not even mad, and I think that's a good thing. I'd like to think I had to make this mistake one last time, because now I can fully walk away and never look back. I'd like to think that I did it because I love that person so much — but I can't love him more than myself anymore. I'd like to think that the next time this happens, or something similar, I'll know what to say and do, because gosh, I don't want to feel like this ever again. I don't want to abandon myself for anyone ever again, even if that means I'll lose that person.
Because at the end of the day, you can lose people, but you can never lose love. And maybe that was what this whole messy lesson was about: that the fear of losing someone else should never be greater than the fear of losing myself. Love's never lost — so what's the point of being scared of losing them? What's the point of doing something for that person, thinking it will keep them in your life, and still, they end up walking away? If you do it out of fear, you already lost.
And so I lost. I failed this test, and I lost that person, and maybe I'm not as healed as I thought I was, and not as ready as I thought I was — but now I know I'll probably never be ready. It's not even about that. It's about loving myself more than I love anyone else, and as long as I do that — how could I lose? How could I fail any cosmic test?
"I can't. And I'd like to think this lesson has finally been learned, at last. But also — the universe knows how to test you in the most unexpected, most chaotic, most unnerving ways. You can know it all in theory, you can be as prepared as humanly possible, but the real thing will always sweep you off your feet. There will be more trials. More chaos. You can never be fully ready for it. And I guess that's the real beauty of life: always expect the unexpected, and when the time comes, ditch your fears and your theories, and just do what feels right. It sounds easy, I know. But it's something I learned the hard way — so I can confidently say it's not just a theory anymore. And that's how we all learn.
